


The Hawk

by thefrailtyofgenius



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Drunk Hijinks, Gen, Hawks is The Vulture, Multi, bnhaxb99bang, rated T for swearing and some talk of sexy times, rewrite of b99 ep 5: The Vulture, that’s it that’s the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21793027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefrailtyofgenius/pseuds/thefrailtyofgenius
Summary: Hizashi vows to get revenge when a detective from Major Crimes takes over his nearly solved murder case. Meanwhile, Nezu and Yuu are determined to help Toshinori, no matter how much he protests. Just another day at the precinct...
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic
Kudos: 26





	The Hawk

**Author's Note:**

> i have completed my first bang, the Boku No Nine Nine mini-bang! this is actually my second entry, and somewhere around here there’s some art that goes along with this fic, so i’ll link it whenever I get my hands on it. enjoy!!
> 
> -MH

“Goooooooood afternoon, beloved associates…and Kan!” Hizashi wailed, pushing through the swinging door to the bullpen.

The glare Shouta gave him rivaled the one from across the bullpen where Ken and Kan sat. “Is there any point in asking you to be quieter anymore?” He asked, peering over his files with an unimpressed expression.

“I’ve tried,” came a sigh from across the floor. Tensei sipped his coffee and eyed the exuberant blonde detective that had just entered. “Where have you even been? It’s like two in the afternoon.”

“I was here in the morning, too!” Hizashi squawked.

“Oh, trust me, we know.”

“You yelled then, too,” Shouta reminded the room at large.

“Well, _other_ than the yelling—which is expected and should be practically endearing by now, by the way—” Shouta snorted, but Hizashi continued, “I also happened to bring in an 81-year-old drug dealer. Pretty sure that’s the oldest collar of my career. Is that a record? Has anyone brought in anyone older?”

Shouta put down his coffee and thought for a moment. “Definitely not. I arrested a 96-year-old for flashing.” He tilted his head, remembering. “I was sincerely worried he would die in the back seat. Or flash me,” he grimaced.

Tensei got up and leaned against Shouta’s desk. “Brought in a 78-year-old woman once,” he grinned, “but the PCP made her fight like she was twenty.”

Ken walked by nibbling thoughtfully on a donut. “What about 50-year-old twins? Does that add up to 100?”

“Nope, not how it works.” Hizashi gave him a thumbs down. Ken just shrugged and continued to the break room.

“We talking about oldest catches?” Nemuri purred, setting her bag down. “I got 68.”

Shouta frowned. “That’s not that old.”

“Yeah, but I was, like, twenty.” Nemuri said sagely, polishing her glasses on her shirt.

“But…” Hizashi raised an eyebrow. “Were you even a cop when you were that young?” He was pretty sure Nem had started police work around the same time as them, even if they weren't at the same precinct until the last few years.

“God, no. I was still in college.” Nemuri huffed out a laugh.

“Then how…” Tensei looked confused as well, but then a wicked grin split his face. “Nem’s not talking about oldest _arrests_ , guys.”

A silent pause rang through the bullpen before the answer hit them.

“Ew, Nemuri!”

“No. Kayama, just no.” Shouta groaned.

Nemuri gave a smile that was anything but innocent. “Oh, we were talking about arrests? But this is so much more fun!”

Hizashi was pounding a fist on his desk, almost in tears with how hard he was laughing. “Nope, there’s no coming back from that, Nem. You had sex with a 68-year-old when you were _twenty?_ ”

“Look here, you little shit,” Nemuri crossed her arms and replied sourly. “It’s the 21st century and I’ll do all the mature women I want! Jeez, why aren't you all more excited? Don’t all young men want to be with older women?”

“Nem, that’s not just ‘older’, that’s _old_. Hell, she’s probably someone’s grandmother!”

“And if she was?” Nemuri queried, starting another round of disgusted reactions. ”Family is just a relation, guys—we can all agree Toshi’s a catch, and he’s got three kids!” She grinned widely. “Besides, in this case, the age was a plus—I recall there being an artificial hip that could do _amazing_ things. Don’t knock it till you try it.”

Shouta facepalmed, but Tensei and Hizashi just continued to cackle. “You know what? Good for you.” Tensei gave her a nod of acknowledgement. “Stay safe, Nem.”

Nemuri gave a shark’s grin. “It was like having sex with a transformer.”

“Oh god, approval withdrawn,” Tensei groaned.

“Live your dreams, Nemuri!” Hizashi howled.

***

Sergeant Toshinori Yagi marched through the bullpen and into the briefing room, standing head-and-shoulders above everyone else with a bulk that most people would find alarming until he actually opened his mouth. To contrast his bulging muscles and toned physique, Toshi had a sweet yet stern demeanor that attracted just about everyone to him, one way or another.

Today he was showing a bit more of his stern side. “Yamada.”

Hizashi was, for once, on time to the afternoon brief, just sitting at the middle table minding his own business. He looked up from his Rubik’s cube and grinned at the hulking blonde when he was addressed. “What’s up, Sarge?”

Toshinori held a folder under his arm, bright blue eyes nailing him to the spot. “Where are we on the Hikari case?” He asked, bringing everyone’s attention to him, even as Captain Nezu appeared in the doorway. He didn’t seem to make much noise, nor show much expression, but if anything was readily apparent about him, it was that he was fiendishly intelligent and devoted to his job.

“Ahh,” Hizashi leaned back in his chair. “Well, like I told Captain last week,” he shot a look at the newly entered captain, “we’re at the one-yard line.” He paused, then added, “It’s an American football reference.”

Toshi rolled his eyes. “I am aware, Hizashi. I _lived_ in America for nearly a decade. Played linebacker at Southern California.”

“Huh,” Nemuri mused. “In high school, Tensei played center field in the musical, _Damn Yankees_. Pretty much the same thing.”

“Remind me never to tell you anything again,” Tensei said through his teeth.

“That’s rough, buddy,” Hizashi consoled his friend.

Toshi raised an eyebrow. “I promise to forget you said that if you just tell me about the damn case.”

“I forget _nothing!_ I’m not making _any_ promises,” Kan called from the back.

Nezu ignored him in favor of focusing his eerie dark eyes on Hizashi. “Hmm, yes. Loop us in.” It was not a request.

Hizashi sighed and stepped up to the podium. “Alright, ya miscreants! Prepare for some stuff on a screen!”

Shouta and Tensei already looked ready to leave.

The long and short of it ended up being a corpse, a corpse’s wife— _“She didn’t take his name but I believe she did take his life.” “Nice.” “Thanks, Nem.”_ —and finally, a missing murder weapon to connect it all together. Hizashi had been working on this for weeks, and he was so close he could taste it.

Nezu’s implacable face greeted him before he could step from the podium. “Well, find this weapon and solve it then. The family’s close to the mayor, and I’m getting pressure from the higher-ups. Once more I’ll ask, Detective Yamada: do you need additional resources or personnel?”

“No, sir.” Like hell was he gonna pass on credit for the case he’d been sweating over for this long.

Nezu shrugged. “Very well. You’ve got plenty of internal resources here anyway. Use them. You are all dismissed.” He followed the rest of the squad out of the room, turned to head to his office, and then seemed to remember something, stopping by Toshi’s desk. “Sergeant Yagi, my office please.”

Across the office, the precinct secretary Yuu paused in the middle of filing her nails and grinned at him. “Uh-oh! You in trouble, Toshi? He probably wants to talk to you about how your shirts aren’t tight enough probably…” She gave him an appreciative look, not stopping even as he turned away to follow Nezu into his office.

***

“So spill, idiot,” Shouta nudged him with a foot under their desks. “You haven’t found the weapon yet, so clearly you need help.”

“I need nothing,” Hizashi declared, shuffling through case papers and attempting to seem busy and official. “I’m going to solve this case, meet the mayor, and sell my life rights to Channing Tatum so he can play my less attractive brother in the ensuing film.”

“Sure,” Tensei crossed his arms, his glasses flashing. “It’s a nice fantasy, but we live here in reality, where you’re taking forever to seal the deal. Let us help you. We _all_ want to get this thing solved. Nezu said to use what we’ve got.”

Hizashi smirked and looked the two of them over. “Not that I wouldn’t _love_ to use you guys, but I work best alone.” He paused. “Except in sex… actually, you know what? Sometimes in sex, too.” He winked.

Tensei’s eyes were going to physically exit his head with how hard he was rolling them. Shouta just tried appealing to his sense of rationality. “Just think how much more quickly it would go if another person were working on it, too, Hizashi.”

Hizashi nodded consideringly. “You _do_ have a point. So if I need to get another person on board, I think I’ll take…” He made a show of thinking for a moment before pointing over at another desk. “Nemuri.”

The woman in question stood and clenched a fist victoriously. “Hell yeah! Take that, Shouta!”

Shouta just rolled his eyes, while Hizashi continued. “Mostly because she won’t steal my thunder.”

Nemuri raised an eyebrow. “Whatever you say, sweetie. Now, let’s go catch some bad guys!”

“We’re literally just looking for a knife, Nem,” Hizashi sighed.

“Now who’s stealing who’s thunder?”

***

“Toshinori,” Nezu cut right to the chase the moment he entered, “I’d like you to accompany me to the gun range.”

Toshinori laughed nervously. “You mean, you’d like me to drive you in my car and drop you off, so you can go in and I’ll stay outside away from the guns?”

Nezu held his gaze. “Sergeant, I’ve been riding a desk for over eight years in pursuit of this captaincy. Now that I’m here, my tactical skills are a little rusty. I’d like some pointers.” The way he said it was oddly gentle, despite the fact that his expression had not changed.

“Sir,” Toshinori scratched the back of his head, “I haven’t touched a gun since The Incident.”

“Ah, with the mannequin? I’m familiar,” Nezu acknowledged.

It had been shortly after Toshi’s twin boys had been born, and he’d been extra nervous about his ability to be a present father. The mannequin had seemed threatening in the dark, but perhaps not threatening enough to shoot it in the face five times while screaming bloody murder.

“Ah, actually there was another incident after that,” Toshinori admitted. That time the victim had been a pinata, and he’d emptied the entire clip and tried to keep going. Not to mention, Toshi had experienced the singular embarrassment of being told to _“calm down, bro”_ by the perpetually excitable Hizashi fucking Yamada just before the younger man ran to pick up the resulting exploded candy.

He gulped in remembrance. “I…may not be the best man for the job, sir.”

Nezu tilted his head and narrowed his eyes slightly. “You used to be the number one marksman in the city, yes? I only want to take pointers from the best.” He folded his hands on the desk in front of him and considered for a moment. “I'll keep it low-key. We'll go after work to a private range. No cops, no pressure.”

“ _Blam! Blam blam!”_ Toshinori jumped as Miss Takeyama poked her head into the office holding her hands in finger guns. “Gun range!” She sing-songed, fully entering the room.

“I’ve also invited Yuu,” Nezu added unnecessarily.

The woman in question flipped a bleach blonde strand out of her eyes. “Yeahhh, I wanna get certified. There’s a ton of crime in my neighborhood, and the cops in my precinct are Very Bad.”

Nezu raised an eyebrow. “Yuu, don’t you live in _our_ precinct?”

“Mm-hm,” she hummed in confirmation before mouthing, _“terrible”_ at Toshinori.

Well, this was going to be An Experience, Toshinori could tell.

***

Hizashi and Nemuri spent an exhausting afternoon scouring the scene of the crime for the umpteenth time then going door-to-door in the surrounding building looking for the murder weapon or a witness.

While this had resulted in some interesting conversations and Nemuri almost running off with someone’s baby, it had netted them absolutely nothing in terms of the case.

Thankfully, Tensei wasn’t the type to sit on his ass when there as work to be done, so just as Hizashi had convinced Nemuri to relinquish the baby to watch over a witness’ dog, he got the call.

“What was that, Tensei?” It was kind of hard to hear now that the kid in his arms had started screaming nonstop. He knew the feeling.

“The wounds don’t seem consistent with a normal knife,” Tensei repeated. “I think you’re looking for a spiral shape, like a corkscrew.”

“Shh shh, it’s okay,” Hizashi reassured the shrieking child. He had infinitely more respect for Toshinori and his sons now, that was for sure.

Tensei was not amused. “Are you shushing me? I’m trying to help you, you dick!”

“No, no, no!” Hizashi replied hastily, moving the phone between his cheek and shoulder trying to bounce the baby. Kid was lucky to still be in his apartment with his mom and not secreted away to wherever Nemuri wanted to coo over him. “I’m talking to the baby, not you. _You_ were very helpful, thank you!” This was the important part because Tensei would absolutely refuse to talk to or help him, much less share cases with him, if Hizashi let one of his favors go unacknowledged.

“Uh-oh,” Tensei’s voice went stone cold over the line. “Zashi, you need to come back. _Now_.”

This was Tensei, so he didn’t bother asking why—they had to go.

Things went from bad to worse when they walked back into the precinct, tired and dispirited, looking questioningly at Tensei, who wordlessly pointed at Hizashi’s desk.

It was _him._

“Ayyy, Yamada!” The man looked up from shining his shoes on the desk with a smirk, beach blonde strands of hair hanging loose from his pretty boy ponytail.

“No.” Hizashi marched past him, Nemuri on his heels. “No, no, no!”

“Dunno what _you’re_ pissed for,” the blonde intruder snarked. “ _I’m_ the one who got shipped out to your little backwater precinct for who knows how long.”

“Hopefully as short as possible,” Nemuri tossed over her shoulder at him.

“Not when I’ve got you around, babe,” he threw back.

When she stopped to confront him, he whined, “No, don’t turn around! I love watching you leave.”

“The feeling is mutual,” she hissed furiously as she slammed the office door behind her.

“She definitely wants me,” was his unheard response before he turned to Toshinori. “Hey man, do you think you could bench press me? Asking for a friend.”

***

Nezu’s dark eyes had them pinned the moment he and Nemuri walked in, but Hizashi wasn’t the type to give up that easily. Combine that with Nemuri’s complete lack of shame and you had two detectives literally begging to keep their case.

“Please please _please_ tell me you’re not going to let The Hawk look at our case!” Hizashi was _this_ close to getting on his knees.

Nezu shrugged. “Major crimes has taken the case. It’s out of my hands. You’re off the case.”

“Agh, Captain! I can’t believe you’re just rolling over and giving my murder away to The Hawk!”

“We call him The Hawk because he’s always watching for a chance to swoop down for a chance to steal our prey—I mean, our cases.”

Nezu gave her an odd look. “Indeed, Kayama, I had made the connection based on context.” He looked back to Hizashi, who looked somewhere between outraged and in shock, and sighed. “First of all, major crimes has jurisdiction wherever and whenever they want. Second but perhaps more important,” he continued, eyes gleaming. His teeth almost looked _sharp_. “ _You_ had the opportunity to solve this case for nearly a _month_ , and from what I can tell, you only utilized the personnel at hand in the last day or so. If you had decided to work together sooner, there might no longer be any case to steal, but you wanted to work alone, and now you’re paying the price.”

It was a lecture if he’d ever heard one. “But now that we’re working together, we’ve made so much progress!” Hizashi whined. “Tensei found out more about the murder weapon, and Nemuri decided she wants kids!”

“Ah, congratulations, Detective Kayama,” Nezu responded pleasantly. “And well done to Detective Iida as well. Sounds like they did good work today—a pity you didn’t involve them sooner. Make sure to share that new information with Detective Takami along with the rest of your files.”

“Sir, please call him The Hawk, giving him a name makes him human,” Nemuri pleaded.

“Turn over the files,” Nezu reiterated, holding Hizashi’s gaze with his own steely one.

Hizashi huffed in defeat. “Fine, but in protest, I’m walking them _really slowly_ over to him.”

Hizashi put the files under his arm and took an exaggeratedly slow step, taking a few seconds to lift his other foot off the floor before completing another. Maybe twenty seconds passed this way before he stood straight up again and complained, “Gah, this is so boring!”

“For _both_ of us,” Nezu agreed, gaze unwavering before Hizashi finally gave up and disappeared from the office with the files.

***

Detective Keigo Takami, aka The Hawk, still sat in Hizashi’s desk as if he owned the place. Hizashi slammed the box containing the case files onto the desk, aggressively pulling them out and practically throwing them at the major crimes detective.

The asshole just smirked. “Bet you’re thanking your lucky stars I showed up, huh, Yamada? You’d just get stuck after finishing up the super easy part. Don’t worry, I’m gonna rescue that pert little ass and show you who’s the Alpha Blonde.” He flipped a pair of obnoxious tinted shades don onto his face, giving Hizashi a sly once over.

Hizashi gasped and made a show of looking over The Hawk’s head to catch Toshinori’s eye. “Sarge, man, I’m so sorry. That an ugly ass bitch like this would even say that, oh my god.”

The sergeant raised an eyebrow, looking between him and The Hawk with a sigh of resignation before turning back to his work.

“It’s cool, Toshi, I’ll defend your honor!” Hizashi called after him, redirecting his attention back to the least-wanted member of the room—and that was saying something since there was a wholeass Kan sitting in the back of it. “Anyway, it’s not like I dusted off Nancy Drew to solve this stuff, you know. This is an actual murder.”

“Nancy Drew did actually solve murders, you know,” Tensei said drily, looking up from his desk with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah!” Nem jumped in. “ _Murder on lce_ , _Recipe for Murder_ … girl took names and kicked ass. Not gonna lie, I kinda wanted to be her when I grew up.”

“Mission accomplished,” Shouta muttered with a roll of his eyes.

“Thanks, guys, super supportive,” Hizashi quipped, watching The Hawk’s lazy grin grow wider as he gestured to his coworkers as if to say _“see?”_

“Well, thanks, Nancy,” he drawled at Hizashi. “Good effort.” Then his eyes brightened horribly behind those yellow lenses. “Oh, you guys aren’t doing anything worthwhile, right? Let’s take bets on fast I solve this thing!”

“No.” This from Shouta and Tensei at once.

The Hawk ignored them. “Hell, wasn’t last time Kayama's ‘impossible’ extortion case?” He put exaggerated air quotes around the word. “How long did that take me? Six hours?”

Nem’s face dropped. “That's because it was _98% solved_ ,” she hissed at him, looking ready to release her wrath on the entirety of the precinct.

The Hawk nodded in a mockery of sympathy. “The last 2% is the hardest to get.” He leaned in and lowered his voice as if he were sharing a secret. “That's why they leave it in the milk.”

“...what?” Hizashi’s brow furrowed at the non-sequitur. Shouta appeared to be finished with the lot of them, getting up from his desk with a few files, likely to find some dark, quiet place to work.

The Hawk, too, had risen to a stand with an exaggerated stretch, but stopped when he saw Shouta, looking him up and down. “Alright, _damn_ , Aizawa! You been working out? Nothing else to do round here in the fucking boonies, I guess.” He paused with a smirk. “...well, maybe _one_ other thing.”

“Rot in hell,” Shouta retorted, not looking at the perpetrator but slowing his escape enough to shoot a venomous look at Hizashi. “This is _your_ fault.”

This was absolutely not fair. Hizashi wanted to go on the record as saying that. Especially when The Hawk stopped beside him, ill-gotten files tucked under his arm as he rested a hand on Hizashi’s shoulder. “She’s right. You fucked up. But don’t worry, I’ve got it from here, champ.” He began to swagger toward the door, then turned around for one last parting jibe. 

“And hey, you feel free to call me anytime you need me to come down here and help powder that tight little ass of yours.” He punctuated the words with an unwelcome slap to said ass before he sauntered out the door. 

Hizashi rubbed his sore butt cheek with a groan. “Well, that's the worst thing that's ever happened to me.”

***

Despite spending most of the day bitching about it, Hizashi still had plenty to say on the subject when the gang hit the bar after work that night. “God, I hate The Hawk _so much!_ ”

“Me, too,” Nemuri bemoaned, glass of wine sloshing as she gestured expansively in agreement before she paused. “But also he's kind of hot.”

“What?” Hizashi stared at her over his beer, bewildered.

“Agreed,” Tensei said, unperturbed as he nursed a whiskey. At Hizashi’s increased wailing protests, he shrugged. “You can hate people and still think they're hot.”

“Case in point, Enji Todoroki,” Nem jumped right back in, even as she received stares from the rest of the table. Even Shouta had yielded to Hizashi’s exhortations to join them that night and sat in silent judgement of their horny friend.

“The serial arsonist from a few months ago?” Tensei asked, as clarification.

“Mm, yep. Put away for life on multiple counts of arson, murder, and domestic abuse…” She trailed off. “But _damn_ , did he take a nice a mug shot.”

Tensei just continued to stare at her in horror, but Hizashi tilted his head in consideration. “Okay, you know what? I’m with you on this. Maybe not, uh, legitimately _evil_ people like that, but… Emi Fukukado? From forensic?” The woman made a lot of tasteless jokes about murder victims and generally made people uncomfortable, Hizashi included, but—“She _thick_.”

Shouta choked on his beer. He in particular had beef with Fukukado, who seemed to act extra weird and jocular around him. He glared as he finished coughing. “Ugh, classy, ‘Zashi.”

Hizashi just gave him his best grin, both out of a natural tendency to be a little shit and genuine delight at the nickname. Shouta only used them for people he liked and even then only when he’d been drinking. Hizashi eyed Shouta’s bottle. This was happening at a grand total of one-and-a-half beers in, so it was safe to say his friend was a lightweight.

“Anyway…” Tensei cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had descended between Hizashi and Shouta. Nemuri looked so put out, you’d have thought she as only here to watch him pine. Hizashi glared at her as Tensei continued, “Sorry you got swooped on.” He sighed. “It happens to the best of us.”

Whether or not “the best of us” was Tensei referring to himself or not was irrelevant; The Hawk had swooped down on all of them at one point or another, and it was never pleasant. Tensei was probably thinking bitterly of the case he’d had stolen literally as he was counting down the infiltration of a suspect’s hideout, The Hawk taking credit for the subsequent apprehension of the entire gang.

Shouta had gotten even further once, reciting the suspect’s rights as he pinned him to the side of a building only for The Hawk to appear, talking over him to finish the rote speech and tearing the perp away to cuff him himself. Shouta had come back to the precinct speechlessly angry before disappearing for several hours. Hizashi still had no idea _where_ he’d gone, but he smelled like smoke when he got back.

Nemuri was far more prone to fury and had been jumped in line at her favorite coffee shop, drink swiped by the smug blonde detective more than once. “I don’t even know what he _does_ with them! He can’t be drinking it—it was a whole-milk latte with whip, and he’s lactose intolerant!” She’d crossed her arms and glared at her coffee-free desk. “Jerk.”

Why she knew that much about the man’s dietary preferences, no one wanted to guess. Nem was scary sometimes.

“Ughhhh,” Nemuri groaned, finishing her wine in a single, frustrated gulp. “I want to get back at him so bad!”

“I wish I could throw his cell phone in the toilet,” Hizashi whined, clenching a hand in his hair, the gelled spikes crackling between his fingers. “Or slash his tires… I don't know.”

“Or slash his gorgeous throat,” Nem agreed dreamily.

“Please develop a sense of shame,” Shouta muttered into his glass.

Hizashi punched a fist in the air. “Okay! I'm buying as long as we're here thinking of a revenge plan.” He gestured for another round to a nearby server. “Best idea gets fifty bucks! Throw 'em on out.”

“What if you called him from a hospital and said his whole family is dead?” Tensei mused, putting down his whiskey with a serious expression. “Like, they died of cancer.”

“Ten, that is so _dark_.” Hizashi clicked his pen open. “I'm putting it down.”

Shouta took his next round with relief as the suggestions started flying.

***

While the bar scene became increasingly rowdy, Toshinori found himself still at work. Sort of.

He stood behind Miss Takeyama and the captain, watching each of them fail at holding a gun with varying degrees of caution.

Miss Takeyama didn’t seem to be taking things entirely seriously, to be honest. But then, she was the precinct’s secretary, not a detective with prior firearms training.

Nezu, at least, should know better. And to be fair, the man was _almost_ successful; his stance was _almost_ correct; he was _almost_ hitting the target.

Toshinori was going to develop an eye twitch at this point.

Of course, the moment he tried to help the captain make the few small adjustments he needed, he had to take his eye off Miss Takeyama.

“Like this?” He heard from beside him and looked over with horror to see the secretary holding the gun sideways in one hand and making sunshot sounds with her mouth. She had, thankfully, not actually shot anything yet.

“No!” He scrambled away from Nezu to correct her. “Miss Takeyama! We've been over this!”

The blonde woman gave him an innocent look. “Well, I don’t remember, and I _told_ you to call me Yuu.” Much to his relief, she put down the gun on the little counter in front of her and propped her hands on her hips. “Show me then!” She backed up so her back was almost flush with his chest. “Like, wrap your thick, muscular arms around me and…” She practically purred as she tried to snuggle against him in the middle of the shooting range.

Toshi rolled his eyes. “All right, look.” He created a little space between them but patiently guided her to pick up the gun, holding it out in front of her with _both_ hands this time. “Arms out, but not locked…stand up straight…chin forward…”

“Hold on, my nose itches.” Toshinori shouldn’t have been surprised to find the gun pointed at her face and his own as she used the hand holding the gun to scratch her nose.

“Miss Take—Yuu!” He almost yelled as he jerked the gun back to a safe trajectory and glared at her.

Behind him, he could hear Nezu thinking aloud. “You did say not to lock my arms, but would that not be more stable? But then, when I do try locking one arm, the other hand feels unstable, so perhaps the point is not inherent stability but equilibrium? Balance the hands, the arms, and you balance the body. And the mind, not unlike—Sergeant, have you ever tried meditation?”

The steady stream of intelligent thought would almost be calming if it didn’t contain questions Toshi knew the man expected him to answer as he struggled with Miss Takeyama.

“Now, what stance am I supposed to be doing… Weaver or isosceles?” Nezu with a question could be considered just as or even _more_ dangerous than Nezu with a gun, to be honest. Toshinori turned to answer him only for his other student to speak up.

“Wait, you guys did stances?” Mis Takeyama scratched her nose again, thankfully this time _not_ with the gun. “Like, I'll be all…” She attempted to put the hand holding the gun behind her head in an apparent attempt for some kind of trick shot.

Toshinori stopped her arm before she could finish the ridiculous maneuver, taking a deep breath through his nose. “Yes, everyone does _stances_ , Yuu.”

“Sergeant, if you could just—”

“Okay, all right, all right, look,” Toshi took the gun from Miss Takeyama and line himself up with a target. “Both of you, just watch.” Without another thought, he settled into his shooting stance and fired off round after round, hitting center mass with every one of them.

“That's eight! He did it!” Miss Takeyama’s voice squealed with excitement.

“No, that was only seven,” Nezu corrected.

Toshinori turned and frowned at them, suspicious. “Why are you counting my shots?” A moment later, he realized he already knew the answer. “Are you trying to have me recertified?”

“Yes,” the captain admitted, the epitome of calm even in the face of being found out. “If you make eight of ten shots, I can sign off on you carrying a gun again.” He gestured to the secretary. “Yuu's here as an official witness, and I thought it'd be easier for you in a no-pressure environment.”

It certainly didn’t feel “no-pressure” now. Toshi began to breath faster in panic. “I can't believe you tricked me!”

“You're too good a cop to be shackled to a desk,” Nezu reasoned, holding his gaze in an attempt to ground him. “You only have one hit until you get recertified, so…deep breath…” He straightened and took a slow, long gulp of air, putting his own words to action. “...and take the final shot.”

Dubiously, Toshinori mirrored him, releasing the breath and resettling into his shooting stance. “Don't overthink it,” Captain was saying behind him. Easier said than done. Before, he’d let his frustration get the better of him and just _done it_. Now, he was thinking about all kinds of things…his boys, the mannequin, his wife, pinatas, Detective Yamada, _his boys_ … letting them clog his head with worries and second thoughts and— “Just relax and breathe,” Nezu reminded him, still attempting to lead by example as Toshi stared at the target in front of him. “I mentioned meditation, did I not? Focus on each breath. Consciously bring air into your lungs…like you've done your whole life.”

Somehow it was the opposite of helpful. Toshi’s breaths were getting faster and more ragged, not slow, smooth, and deep like Captain wanted. “Oh my god… how do you breathe?”

The sound he heard behind him was probably Miss Takeyama’s hand slapping into her forehead. Toshi was so screwed.

***

After nearly two hours of progressively more and more drunken vengeance planning, Hizashi had a list of things terrible people do that seemed completely reasonable. However, what little logic remaining in the group demanded a single grand gesture. Because as much as he’d like to, Hizashi could not actually—legally and, in some cases, physically—accomplish everything on this list.

“Well, I hate to say it, but I think Tensei’s idea of wrapping his motorcycle in melted plastic is the winner.”

“Yusss!” Tensei was officially at the “fist-pumping at everything” level of drunk. “Win by default!”

Hizashi cackled. “Alright! Let's get to it!” He paused. “Uh, anybody know where The Hawk lives?”

“On third, right near here,” Nemuri said immediately.

“How do you _know_ that?” Tensei asked in despair.

Shouta nodded in glazed agreement. “Creepy, Nem.”

But Hizashi just shrugged and held up his glass. “Chug 'em, boys. We're rolling!”

***

The Hawk’s motorcycle was unforgivably cool, dammit. All shiny and powerful. There was even a wing design in the paint on one side, making Hizashi wonder if he knew about his nickname. Still, the bike looked significantly less impressive once it was coated in plastic wrap.

The next step was to melt it. “Alright! Let’s melt this puppy!” He held out a hand to Nemuri. “Gimme your hair dryer.”

“What?” She frowned tipsily at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Don't you carry one in your purse?” Hizashi looked at the other men around him. Tensei looked on the verge of a giggling breakdown. Shouta was draped against the building beside them with a vaguely amused expression on his face. Ken and Kan were still with them somehow, Ken looking vaguely disappointed and Kan straight up laughing at him.

Nemuri snorted. “First off, do you see a purse?” She held her arms out, her tight clothing revealing no purse, nor any other place to keep things, especially something as large as a hairdryer.

“And second,” Shouta picked up her distribe for her. “Have you ever met an actual human woman?” Nemuri nodded in agreement.

At a loss, they stood beside the plastic-covered motorcycle in silence for a moment. “There's a drugstore four blocks away…” Tensei recalled, at length.

“I'm on it,” Ken volunteered, beginning to walk down the street away from the group.

“Oh, no. Ken traveling four blocks? That could take weeks.” The man moved about as fast as cement dried, and Hizashi suspected he’d only gone in the first place to get himself a snack. He picked up his phone and dialed a familiar number.

***

Toshinori had yet to move from his spot on the range, pouring sweat as his gaze flicked between the gun and the target, which had begun to take interesting shapes in his overwrought mind.

“Woo! You got this, Toshi!” Miss Takeyama whisper-yelled.

She was immediately accompanied by Captain’s calm insistence that he _“take the shot, sergeant.”_

Toshi swallowed. “I…I just need a second.”

“You've had 18 minutes of seconds,” Nezu observed unhelpfully.

Before they could argue further, the tinny sound of some k-pop hit song emitted from Miss Takeyama’s purse. She reached in and pulled out her phone, turning away from them in an attempt at privacy. “Yuu’s authentic stolen police badges. How can I help you?”

Toshinori blanched, but Nezu just raised an amused eyebrow. Both of them were thoroughly engaged in listening to her call now.

“Hey, it’s Yamada.” The other voice could be heard clearly over her speakers, so it seemed she didn’t care who was listening.

“Oh, hey, Zashi!” She leaned back and twirled a bit of her hair between her fingers expectantly.

“Hey, do you carry a hair dryer in your purse?” Back on third street, Hizashi waited for her answer. Nemuri rolled her eyes.

“Of course. I'm not an animal,” Yuu purred, even as Nemuri groaned in disbelief.

Hizashi stuck his tongue out at her. “Great. I need you to bring it to The Hawk's apartment.”

“There's someone named ‘The Hawk’?” Yuu asked with interest. “Tell Kayama. She'd be into that.”

Nezu had heard enough. He grabbed the phone and addressed the detective directly. “Yamada, why are you asking Yuu about Detective Takami?”

“Oh, Captain, hello,” Hizashi backpedaled. “Uh, we are…” He looked around at everyone on the street helplessly. “…preparing him a gift basket of sorts.” He winced at the terrible cover.

The captain sighed. “Look, I understand that you're upset. But if you want to keep this from happening again, I suggest that you pull your team together and solve these cases before major crimes can step in. Am I clear?” If there was one thing he was clear about, it was that he was _clearly_ impatient to get back to the recertification. Toshinori swallowed.

Surprisingly, Hizashi sounded agreeable. “Yes, sir. That is definitely clear.”

***

“Thank you, sir,” Hizashi said before he hung up, smiling.

“You should be frowning,” Shouta observed. “Why is Zashi smi…” Realizing he could just ask the man himself, he turned to Hizashi. “Why are you smiling?”

Lord, Shouta really was drunk. Hizashi put a hand on each of his shoulders, shaking him gently as he laughed. “Because the Captain just gave us the perfect revenge plan!” Shouta gave him an adorably befuddled look, so he explained, “We team up and solve this case right now!”

Shouta frowned, grappling for reason in his inebriation. “That is _not_ what he meant.”

Hizashi raised his arms in a grand gesture of excitement. “Think about it, Shouta. We go back to the scene of the crime, find the murder weapon, and out-swoop The Hawk!” It was perfect! “No one gets in trouble if we crack the case,” he added as a final persuasive tactic.

That seemed to do it for drunk Shouta. “Okay, screw it. I'm in.” And once he had Shouta, the rest followed easily.

“Yes!” Hizashi cheered, unable to resist pumping his fist along with Tensei. “Alright, we're angry, we're getting revenge, we're a little bit tipsy…we should not be driving. We're taking the bus!”

He led the charge as Nemuri giggled. “I love the bus!”

***

The bus was always more exciting when you were drunk.

Hizashi talked over the case during the ride, reasoning through the old and new information as his friends listened and weighed in. “Anyways, we know it's the wife,” he finished. “We just need to find the weapon.”

Shouta stared at him. “You're real talkative now that you want our help,” he pointed out.

Hizashi sighed. “Alright, it is possible that I should've brought you guys in sooner,” he admitted. “But I just get so excited, wrapped up in wanting to solve stuff, you know?”

“I get it,” Shouta leaned against the window, still looking at him strangely. Almost _fond_. “You want to be the best. We all do.” He paused and grinned, causing Hizashi to almost have a heart attack before the normally stoic man looked away to hide the expression, muttering, “You just don't have to be such a…a butthead about it.”

“What?” Hizashi chuckled, and Shouta shoved him without meeting his eyes. “I just can't believe you would call me a butthead,” he gasped in false affront.

“Shut up.” Behind him, Nemuri was looking back and forth between the two of them, grinning giddily at their terrible flirting.

Hizashi wasn’t done. “That's so harsh, Shouta!”

It was brought to an abrupt pause as Tensei threw himself into the seat across from them, a stormy frown on his face. Hizashi raised his eyebrows at him in question. “Kan is not above biological warfare,” he stated shortly.

They all looked back to see Kan grinning all by himself smack dab in the middle of the very back seat.

***

The crime scene was empty and unguarded, thankfully. A little role play yielded some interesting theories on the whereabouts of the weapon, from “still in the body” (how Kan was still employed as a detective was anyone’s guess) to Tensei’s “threw it out the window” (which surveillance didn’t support).

It was after some glazed staring at the crowded fridge art that Shouta frowned. He was sobering up, thank god, because Hizashi really needed his beautiful brain right now. “What is it?”

“What if it’s a magnet?” Shouta pointed at the fridge. There was a magnetic bottle opener holding a picture of the victim’s kids.

“A magnetic corkscrew?” Hizashi sorted through the idea aloud.

“If the wife tried to throw it away like Nem thought,” he nodded at their friend. “Then—”

“—then it would stick to the side of the trash chute!” Hizashi realized. “Shouta, you’re a genius! I could kiss you!”

He really could.

After some one-sided discussion of who should check the trash chute—Nemuri was smallest, but she decried her being literally thrown in the trash as inherently sexist, and no one was going to argue with her—Hizashi found himself being lowered into the metal shaft, cursing his slim build and lack of unsober argument skills.

His phone’s flashlight illuminated _something_ on the side of the chute—and it _better_ be the stupid corkscrew or he was going to need some therapy—but before he could get a better look, the hand holding his legs outside the shaft disappeared. “Shit!” He shrieked, trying to hook his feet on the opening as voices echoed down to, a bit garbled but clear enough for him to realize…he was in _so much trouble._

***

It seemed like hours of stalling later, some highlights being a retelling the birth of his boys, counting to 300, spoiling the plot to _Top Gun_ , and showing off how many push-ups he could do—all of them. he could do _all of them_ —that another phone call came in.

This time it was for Nezu, who had the sense not to answer it until he was somewhere _actually_ private. Toshinori certainly didn’t mind being excluded. He’d been trying to psych himself up for this final shot for so long it as a relief to have a reprieve from the captain’s watchful eye for a few minutes.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t even a full minute before Nezu stepped back into the range, cool as a cucumber, and explained the contents of the call. “Apparently, our detective squad has gotten drunk, compromised a crime scene, and an officer has gotten stuck in a trash chute.” 

_Jesus_. Toshinori shook his head, disbelieving. Nezu looked him in the eye. “I need you to lead this squad, Toshi. And I mean _really_ lead it.” He paused before stepping back out. “I hope you take the shot.”

***

The Hawk was not pleased, to say the least.

“What kind of precinct are you running here, huh Nezu?” The major crimes detective paced in front of the captain’s desk, seething at the so-called “injustice” that had occurred the night before.

“Would you like to sit down, Detective?” Nezu offered congenially. “You seem upset.”

The Hawk crossed his arms and sniffed. “Upset’s just the tip of the iceberg here, _Captain_.” He held up a hand and began ticking off offenses. “Your team disrupted a crime scene—over which they have zero jurisdiction, might I add!” That was two fingers, but he had more. “They were publicly drunk.” Another finger. “And apparently one of them pressed all the buttons on the elevator to the crime scene.”

Outside the office, the other detectives were panicking. “What now?” Shouta hissed. “Nezu is gonna kill you.”

Hizashi, however, was unconcerned. “I don't think he will…because…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ziploc bag. “ _Voila!_ ”

“You actually found the corkscrew in the trash chute?” Nemuri grinned.

“Stuck to the side, just like Shouta said,” Hizashi said. “Well, actually, _I_ said that, but you were getting there, babe!”

Shouta punched him in the ribs, and Hizashi coughed, bending over to cradle ribs that had already been sore from being _dropped down a fucking trash chute_. “Right, ah, you were getting there... _fellow associate_.”

Shouta rolled his eyes but gave a ghost of a smile.

That combined with the vindication of getting one over on Major Crimes was going to power his happiness through the rest of the week, Hizashi swore.

“I can’t believe we actually did it!” Tensei looked euphoric. “We out-swooped The Hawk!” He made a crackling, feral scream that had everyone staring. “What?”

“What the hell was that?” Nemuri looked horrified.

Tensei frowned. “It's a hawk! C’mon, you know what I mean!”

Hizashi shook himself. “Right. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna take this corkscrew over to the D.A. So we get the collar, not major crimes.”

“Yamada!” Sarge’s voice rang through the air, erasing his glee in an instant. “Now.” His frame was tense, voice vibrating with anger. Hizashi followed him outside without question.

“Okay. Before you get mad—” He tried only to be shut down immediately.

“Shut it!” Toshinori snapped. “Nezu was right. I've been so worried about my own kids, I forgot about my stupid grown-up kids.” He glared down at him like he was, indeed, a recalcitrant child.

Hizashi resisted the urge to pout. “That's insulting.” Okay, that was still pouting.

The sergeant scoffed. “Ridiculous. Izuku and Katsuki don’t even get into this much trouble, and I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of the phrase ‘Terrible Twos’, but it’s a pretty exact description of them right now.” He sighed and pressed a hand to his eyes for a moment. “You clearly need supervision. I should've been on you more.” He looked up, catching Hizashi with his intense blue eyes. “And starting now, _I will be_.” He clenched a fist, whether in threat or promise wasn’t clear. “But if you ever do this again, I swear I will crush your head in one hand.” Okay, so _that_ was pretty clearly a threat.

Hizashi’s throat was suddenly too dry. “You don't mean that.”

“Try me,” Toshinori thundered. Hizashi didn’t doubt he could do it, and the way his eyes flashed just now—

“Okay,” Hizashi squeaked.

As close to satisfied as he was going to get by the conversation, Toshinori turned to go back inside. “Where are you going?” 

Toshi turned back to him, exasperated. “The boss is taking heat for something that's not even his fault. I can't let that happen.”

Hizashi swallowed. “Wait. Dammit…” He met Toshi’s gaze with more determination this time. “It's not your fault either.” He groaned. “…and it's not The Hawk's fault.” He heaved a guilty sigh. “...it's Tensei's.” He flinched when Toshinori raised a threatening fist. “Right, just kidding, I know, I know! It's mine.” He held up his hands in surrender. “It's mine, okay? God, I do _not_ love how this worked out.” He marched back inside through the bullpen to burst into Nezu’s office.

“Detective Takami.”

The Hawk whipped around from where he stood before the Captain. “Now what?”

“I'd like to cordially invite you to calm down.” Hizashi wanted to stop there, but he had to see this through. “Especially considering that this case has already been solved…by you!” God, he wanted to punch himself in the face, especially when The Hawk just looked unamused, clearly not getting it. Hizashi screamed internally and walked him through it. “Looks like you found the murder weapon. It's a good thing you realized it was magnetically stuck to the inside of the trash chute. Congratulations.”

Nezu’s expression was as unreadable as always, but he gave a short laugh. “Well. Cracked the case all by yourself.” He looked between the Major Crimes detective and Hizashi. “Are we done here?”

The Hawk tapped a considering finger against his chin, toying with the facial hair there before his lips curled into a self-satisfied smile. “Yeah.” He nodded finally. “Yeah, I guess we are.” He chuckled and turned to Hizashi. “Hey, keep up the bad work, champ.” Hizashi braced himself, and sure enough, The Hawk slapped his ass before exiting the office.

Hizashi refused to meet the captain’s gaze as he turned to follow. “Why?” He bemoaned under his breath.

In the bullpen, The Hawk was getting in a few last parting shots. Shouta had the misfortune to be bending to put away some files as he passed—“Nice. Stay foxy.” Hizashi couldn’t believe the guy didn’t so much as move to touch his ass. Why the hell was he so obsessed with Hizashi’s ass in particular?

“Die lonely,” Shouta shot back, straightening to glare the man down till he finally fucking _left._

***

“Sir?” Toshinori peeked around Nezu’s door after Hizashi had been suitably castigated and the other detectives sent home. “Thank you.”

He’d managed to make the final shot. He was recertified to carry a firearm, ready to go back into the field, ready to _lead_. And he doubted it would have happened without the captain’s interference.

“Ultimately, it was our raw sexual chemistry that helped him overcome his crippling fear.”

Right, and also Miss Takeyama. She lounged against the doorframe, staring at him with hungry eyes. “You should just stay in the office all day every day and be my bestie. You could join my dance troupe; we're looking for a man of precisely your—”

He cut her off before she could say anything he couldn’t unhear. “Thank you, but…” He turned to the captain. “I'm ready to get myself back in the game.” He backpedalled hastily. “I mean, eventually... not tonight,” he affirmed, already backing toward the door. “I need to go hug my baby boys. Excuse me.”

Nezu and Yuu smirked at the back of the strongest man they knew as he rushed home to to smother his children with love.

***

“Ya know, Zashi, I gotta say, I’m proud of the way you handled things with The Hawk yesterday. It was very mature.” Nemuri sat atop the break room table, legs crossed and staring at her friend’s odd posture.

Hizashi nodded wisely. “Well, sometimes in life, you just have to take the high road.”

A chiming sound emerged from his phone. “Ah! Time's up! Help me out.”

Nemuri rolled her eyes and hopped down to take a look at the plaster moulded to Hizashi’s entire backside. “Can't wait to see it,” she said sarcastically as she pulled at the hardened plaster.

A little bit of discomfort and suction later, Hizashi was holding a replica of his own ass. “Check it out! Perfect, right?”

Nemuri sighed. “Ah, hubris.” She examined the ass-shaped plaster cast with amusement. “You really do have a teeny tiny little butt, Zashi.” 

Hizashi jerked it away from her. “Ah-ah, that’s special delivery, no touch-y!” He placed the faux ass in a box and began writing a message.

"Dear Hawk…” He grinned and thought for a moment. “You are now cordially invited to kiss my ass."

The high road wasn’t any fun anyway.

***

**Author's Note:**

> hello, I’m Marlene, i have social media, and I desire your attention!! and you can find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/merlinhurricane) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/merlinhurricane) or pretty much anywhere @merlinhurricane if you wanna ask me something or talk (or give me prompts PLEASE!!)
> 
> last but not least I LOVE COMMENTS. kudos are also spectacular, but even if you just give me a keyboard smash or like a smiley or something, my soul will smile back. hang in there, and have a truly amazing day!
> 
> -MH
> 
> xoxo

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Hizashi's Halloween Proposal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23975062) by [CC_Writes_Stuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CC_Writes_Stuff/pseuds/CC_Writes_Stuff)




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